


If Thou Canst Believe

by icosahedonist (teljhin)



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Wishbabies, Angst, Feelings, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-04-04 22:26:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14030148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teljhin/pseuds/icosahedonist
Summary: Everything was going along swimmingly until finally, all that was left was for the baby to arrive.





	If Thou Canst Believe

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [iamnotmagic_cath](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamnotmagic_cath) for the beta!

"Your tests came back negative, gentlemen. You're free and clear." Dr. Kozlow closed their folders with a smile. She slid something across her desk toward them—presumably copies of their results, but Sid paid it no mind. He had just one thought in his head right now.

"We're really doing this." Sid turned to Geno and saw the matching grin on his face. Happiness was an over-large bubble inside him, threatening to burst and drown the world in joy. Geno squeezed his hand tightly, and it felt like the beginning of everything Sid had ever dreamed of.

"Yes," Geno said, quietly fierce. Simple as that. And it was, it _truly was_ , and Sid laughed because why not?

"I don't mean to put a damper on things," Dr. Kozlow cut in, "but even though you both tested negative, it still may take some time before—"

"Yeah, no, definitely," Sid interrupted. "We've read up on it. Up to six weeks, right? Something like that?"

Dr. Kozlow pursed her lips. "That's the average, yes." Her expression softened as she continued, "It’s not a given, but considering your age and overall health, your CLT levels will likely rise substantially in the next week or two. You can buy a CLT monitor at any drugstore if you want to track it."

"I don't think that'll be necessary. But thank you," Sid tacked on. God. They were doing this.

They made their way home, though for as preoccupied as he was, Sid could have floated there for all he knew. The moment the door was closed Sid whirled on Geno and threw his arms around his neck.

"We're gonna make a _baby_ ," Sid breathed. He felt the curve of Geno's smile against his jaw and clutched him closer. Sid thought they could pull an entire team of babies out of the sky right now from pure unadulterated want.

 _Bring them on_ , he thought giddily as he pressed kisses into Geno's hair. A baby. Oh god, they were crazy, they were doing this, they were really going to put their hearts and souls and bodies into wishing down a child of their very own.

He startled when Geno pinched his ass; he hadn't even noticed Geno's hand moving down his back. But he figured, when he pulled back to see the unrepentant smirk on Geno's face, there was no time like the present. All this baby business had them keyed up, and anyway, sex raised CLT levels so it was a win-win.

At the very least, they made it to the couch instead of fucking on the floor of the foyer.

* * *

They made love that night. Sid had always thought the term silly: a ridiculous, froufrou way of dressing up the carnality of sex, of attempting to render it palatable to people who didn't want to be reminded of its often filthy, strange, and sometimes perverse nature. There was no way to edit out the sounds either of them were making, to make their bodies any less slick with sweat and lube and spit; sex would never not be a messy affair. But in the warm lamp light of their room, cradled close together and moving as one body, the words didn't seem so absurd. When he gazed at Geno and saw the same overwhelming emotion reflected back, it struck him that they really were making something greater than themselves. Both of them were bound up tight to one another in a single shared wish.

Making love, making a wish, making a _child_. Sid wanted this more than anything with Geno. So he gave himself over to that wave of feeling and wished, wished with body and soul, and made love to his husband who showed the depth of his shared wish too.

* * *

The following week was filled with the kind of sexual insatiability not seen since their honeymoon. Every flat or semi-flat surface was fair game for an impromptu round of grabass that invariably turned into more. They knew it unlikely that they'd get a child so soon after going off their suppressants, but, well. There was no harm in _trying_. CLT levels and all that, they told themselves as they breathlessly messed up their bed for the second time that day.

Eventually the initial excitement tapered off, and they went about their offseason much the same as ever, with the added task of preparing the house for a child. When they had first talked about going off suppressants, they agreed that they would get everything ready for the baby before it came. Traditionally it was thought to be bad luck to prepare ahead of time, but it just made more sense. They could do nothing and welcome their child into a house that had no diapers, no formula, no baby clothes, and no crib, and spend their immediate hours harried while they tried to gather up the necessities. Or they could have those things beforehand, and instead spend those hours basking in familial joy. Plenty of other people had bucked superstition and been fine, and for once Sid and Geno decided they could too.

They painted the baby's room a muted gray, the color of penguin chick fluff. They stocked up on diapers and formula, furnished the room with a crib and a changing table and a toy box, and took a couple of parenting classes. Sid's dad shipped them the rocking chair he'd begun making earlier that year after they'd told their families they were going to try for a child after the season was over. It took pride of place right by the window.

Everything was going along swimmingly until finally, all that was left was for the baby to arrive.

* * *

Six weeks came and went. Then seven. Then eight.

Sid knew the statistics: in couples completely clear of suppressants, the average waiting time for a baby was about six weeks. Eight weeks wasn't unusual, he knew, but expectation pressed heavily against him.

He broke down and bought a CLT monitor. According to the instruction booklet, his levels were in that perfect range for wishing down a child; so were Geno's.

It's going to happen, they told each other. They just had to be patient.

* * *

At week ten, Sid thought to himself, _This isn't right_.

They were young. They were healthy. And they _wanted_ this, more than any trophy or prize they could attain. And according to every source they checked they were doing everything right. They maintained their CLT levels. They practiced mindful wishing. They made their environment inviting to children. They even prayed together, clutching hands and crossing themselves and taking turns asking aloud for their child to be sent to them.

Each morning their doorstep remained barren.

 _This isn't right_ , Sid thought, but he didn't know what they were doing wrong.

* * *

Geno found Sid in the baby's room. From the rocking chair Sid could see his wan expression in the dying afternoon light, the way his hands gripped the door frame tight on either side. Twelve weeks now, and all they could do was stare at each other.

Finally Geno sighed, sagging with it. "Sid..."

And with that one word, Sid felt something dislodge within his breast. He loosened his clenched jaw and spoke.

"Do you even want a baby?"

Geno straightened up; his face morphed with confusion and disbelief, and—oh, Sid was ready for this—some anger too. For a long moment he said nothing, then grated out, "What the fuck, Sid. Why you ask me this?"

"You're not answering my question," Sid said, voice steady. He'd figured it out the other day and had just enough time to let the idea take hold and blossom into full-blown conspiracy. He knew he wanted a child; this was fundamental to who he was. Geno on the other hand—

Geno prayed with him, had sex with him, and looked appropriately sad when morning came and there was no child to greet them. Every morning when they clutched each other tight, Geno assured Sid that their baby would come. But then he went about his day as if nothing was the matter.

Didn't it eat at him? Didn't it drive him to distraction? Usually when something bothered Geno, it was plain as day: he grumped and sulked and complained to anyone willing to indulge his grousing. And yet... nothing.

So Sid decided to fucking do something.

Geno snapped out something vicious-sounding before returning to English. "Of course I want baby, fucking—what, you think I don't? You think I don't want—?" His voice cracking on the last word, he turned his face into his arm. Tucked away like that, his shoulders shaking, he looked vulnerable, exposed. Sid felt a sick stab of satisfaction at that, because at least he could be sure Geno wasn't faking—then remorse that he'd needed this display to prove it.

But he had to know, he reminded himself. He had to know exactly where Geno stood, because if there was any doubt, then all the weeks of heartsore wishing were a waste.

"Should ask you," Geno said as he lifted his face, his tone deceptively soft. Light caught his eyes, and Sid knew that hard flinty look: it was the one that got him in trouble on the ice. The one opponents saw before the blow. Geno took a step into the room, a sudden looming figure that had the back of Sid's neck prickling. The arms of the rocking chair creaked as Sid stood and let go his white-knuckled grip on them. If they were going to do this, the least he could do was stand like a man.

"Well? What you say? You want baby, Sid?" Lifting his chin to look down his nose like that, Geno seemed gigantic, at least ten feet tall and ready to crush Sid where he stood.

Sid couldn't keep the irritation out of his voice. "Of course I do—"

"Then why you ask?"

"I had to know if you really wanted this—"

Geno stepped closer. Sid stood his ground. "That's not reason why. Tell me truth, Sid, why you ask?"

"That _is_ the truth, I don't—"

"Why you ask!" Geno bellowed, trembling with the force of it.

"Because," Sid shouted back, "it's been twelve fucking weeks and we have _nothing_! We've done everything right, we fuck and wish and pray and for what? Doesn't it piss you off? I mean Jesus Christ, you get so worked up over fucking—slashing calls, yet here you are cool as a cucumber." He laughed, ugly and breathless, and felt ill with anger. "I can't, I can't fucking _stand_ it when you look like, like it means _nothing_ to you either way, so yeah, G, I'm asking you why!"

He wrapped his arms around his midsection and stared at Geno thunderously. But Geno, for his part, looked at Sid with mournful comprehension, and it just made Sid all the more frustrated.

"You think I'm not mad?" Geno asked quietly. "I'm so pissed off, I can't think anything else. I want baby so much, Sid, I'm, I'm want it _most_. But complain's not get us baby. Be mad do nothing but drive baby away, so I'm work at _not_ be mad." He tapped his chest with his finger. "Baby knows heart, so I show him good heart, happy heart."

He moved nearer, and suddenly Sid wanted to be anywhere else. But before he could flee Geno dug his fingers into Sid's arms and said, enunciating with great care, "We're going to have a baby, Sid." He gave him a single rough shake. "You hear me? We're not giving up. Our baby's coming home."

Sid clenched his eyes shut. "How do you _know_?" Geno sounded so sure, so certain, but twelve weeks had passed already, and another twelve could just as easily slip by them with no child in sight. He didn't want to go outside only to find his doorstep empty once again.

"I just know," Geno replied.

"That's not good enough," Sid snapped, his eyes popping open to catch Geno giving him a soft look.

"Yes it is."

Sid closed his eyes again, unable to bear the tender certainty in Geno's face. He remembered back at the beginning, when it really had seemed so simple to tell himself that of course they would have a baby, simple as that. It had _been_ simple, but now...

Had something changed within him along the way? As the weeks fell away with nothing to show for it except a well-appointed room and half a dozen boxes of diapers, had he begun to doubt in his heart? He felt he'd been faithful, that his wish had been true, but if he was questioning it now, did that mean that somewhere along the way he'd started to lose hope?

Maybe he'd thought they wouldn't possibly wait a whole six weeks, because they were better than that; they could wish harder than anyone else and bring that baby home in a fraction of the time. Maybe he had some fear; in the parenting classes they took, there were so many things to get _just right_ , and there was no room for failure. Failure meant harm, or worse, and this was their child he had to care for.

And now he was standing in their child's room, railing against his husband for his own failure to keep faith. No wonder they didn't have a baby.

Geno gathered him up tight. Sid sunk into his embrace and let the hot wash of tears sweep his anger away until he was hollowed through.

After, when he was all cried out, he lifted his head and scrubbed his hands over his damp face. He heard Geno sniffle in the darkness and chuckled weakly.

"Fuck. I'm sorry."

Geno sniffled again, squeezing him briefly before bending down to press a kiss against his forehead.

"You tell me, okay? If you're sad or mad or whatever. You tell me and we fix."

Sid sighed. "I don't know if you can just fix a feeling, G."

Geno shrugged. "Don't let it get so big, then. It's not healthy. We talk it out."

Figuring he'd had enough of being argumentative for one day, Sid nodded, and let himself be ushered out of the room.

* * *

When they went to bed that night, the exhaustion and emotion of the day left them with little desire for anything other than sleep.

In the darkness before sleep took him, Sid heard Geno say, "I'm scared too, Sid. But I know he's coming home."

Sid rolled to face him; even with his eyes all Sid could make out was a dark outline, smudgy and indistinct. Somehow this comforted him, so he took those words to heart, said a prayer, and fell asleep.

He woke up the next morning feeling... not hopeful, precisely, but calm. _Our baby is coming home_ , Sid thought. He watched the light play over Geno's sleep-eased face until finally he began stirring. Sid kissed him awake, and hand in hand they went downstairs to the front door.

Breathing deeply, Sid glanced over at Geno, who gave him a soft smile. Sid smiled back, squeezed his hand, and turned the handle.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry about the lack of actual babies.
> 
> Come visit me on [Tumblr](http://icosahedonist.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
